The Works of a Crazed Author
by Piper Pippins
Summary: Their lives changed completely because of a single letter. And though that letter almost drove Katniss to insanity, inflicted pain on Peeta, and caused Gale to know the entire truth about his identity, the letter helped them gain something so much more: Friendship and bravery. THG trio as Hogwarts students.
1. Strange and Deranged

**Dicsclaimer: I own Harry Potter? I like to think so. Neville and Luna, make out *clap clap*. No reaction. WHY ARE MY CHARACTERS CONSPIRING AGAINST ME? *sulks in the corner***

**Another Disclaimer: I own The Hunger Games? I'm too busy sulking to sign the contract.**

* * *

I sat there on the edge of the lake with my father, gathering katniss roots for my mother and Prim. All around me, strange things are happening. Father's noticed them. The sudden yellowing of leaves when I come near a bush, my skin barely making contact. The rocks, stones, and pebbles moving away from my hand as I reach out for one all on its own. Earlier, I dropped a dead twig that was in my hand and, unexpectedly, it bounced.

Dad said it's unusual. It wasn't normal. These things had begun happening since I was seven years old. It started when I fell face-first off my bike and into the stony road, but no bruise or wound was seen. Not the slightest scratch.

The katniss root that I was trying to grab just kept avoiding my hand. My dad saw this, sighed, and shrugged. "It happens," he says simply. "Just don't bother." He gives me a small-smile then stands up. I dry my hands on my jeans and do the same. "We better get back home," my dad says. "It's getting pretty dark." I gaze up at the sky. Clearly, I could hear the distant rumbling of thunder, telling me that a storm is approaching. I nod in agreement. "Let's go."

I put the roots we gathered in one of my father's leather pouches as he picks up his game bag. A strange number of owls are gathered here in the District again. Well, I wouldn't call it strange. I notice them every year. I could've sworn that two years ago, I saw an owl with a letter clutched in its talons. I must be seeing things. It wouldn't be the first time.

We make our way out of the forest and into our small home, my dad collapsing in the small, patched couch. I brought the game to my mother in the kitchen. She eyes me curiously. Just as I was about to get out of the door and into my room, my mother's voice stops me. "Katniss," she says. "Are you seeing someone from school?"

I feel the heat arising from my cheeks. "Mom. I'm eleven years old," I say. She just laughs then shrugs. "You know, Katniss, that's the answer to the question 'How old are you'," she says in a matter-of-fact tone. "Don't worry, I won't get mad. Answer me honestly. Are you seeing someone from school?"

I roll my eyes. "Mom, no! What makes you think that?" She sighs then holds out an elegant letter in front of my face. I can make out calligraphy written with emerald green ink. The envelope was sealed with red wax, a big letter "H" surrounded by a picture of a badger, a serpent, an eagle, and a lion. "The writer knows your full address. See, it knows where you sleep and all," my mom points out. I grabbed the letter from her hands, and looked at the back of the envelope. Clearly, the letter was for me. _"Ms. Katniss Everdeen, The Little Wooden House, The Smallest Bedroom, The Seam, District Twelve"_. It was weird. It was unlikely. It was… "Creepy." The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

* * *

I look out the bakery window to see the owls coming and going. Strange, how they just suddenly turned up this time of year. My mother's not here, so I take a break from frosting the cupcakes to stick my head out the window. Barn owls. Very uncommon in District Twelve. I pull my head back in as I continue my work, just to see that my cupcake has inched away from me. Strange, no one has even entered the room. I try reaching out for it, but it keeps moving away. I finally manage to get hold of it.

I try doing a bunch of lilies and daisies, some tulips and sunflowers, orchids and primroses.

A clumsy old barn owl finds its way into the bakery. Through the front door. As my older brother Lorcan opens the door to fetch the bags of flour, the owl hits his arm and falls to the floor, a letter in its beak. As soon as Lorcan gets hold of the letter, he calls out to me. "Peeta!" he yells. "It's for you!"

I make my way down the hallway just in time to see the owl fly away, this time through the open window. I get the letter in his hands. "How on earth?" I say, examining the letter. It knows exactly where I live, where I sleep. The address was written in green ink in the most beautiful handwriting I've ever seen. It was sealed with red wax, a letter "H" in the middle of illustrations of a badger, an eagle, a serpent, and a lion.

"Peeta," says Lorcan, clearly confused. "Why was that letter delivered by _owl_?"

I glare at him. "Do you think I know?"

"Well, it's your letter."

My letter. No one has ever written to me before. "There's no stamp," I point out. Lorcan nods. "That's a strange way to deliver a letter, isn't it?"

I begin tearing the letter open, but I'm interrupted by the sound of my mother coming down. I could tell, because my mother always thuds down the stairs. She's heavier than anyone else in the house. "Quick!" says Lorcan frantically. "Hide the letter! She'd never let you open it once she sees it!"

I do as I was told and wedge the letter between two of the books on the shelf. It is a perfect hiding place because my mother never reads. I hurry back to the kitchen, pretending to be frosting the cupcake for the whole time.

* * *

Vick can be heard rampaging down the stairs. He is playing with the wooden toy gun that my father made for him. "Bam! Bam! Bam!" he shouts, shooting imaginary people from imaginary scenarios. I laugh as I help skin the rabbit that my dad caught in the woods with one of his snares. Rory comes down moments later, this time with a wooden sword in hand. Together, he and his brother begin battling as pirates, sailing on a massive ship on the sea.

Rory and Vick aren't exactly known for being quiet.

"Vick! Rory!" my mother says. "Hush, now! Daddy's asleep. We wouldn't want to wake him now, right?" At this, my brothers step out of the house, making as much noise in the streets. My mother laughs. "Well, at least they aren't disturbing your father," she tells me. My dad just came back from hunting in the woods. He spends hours there, so it's normal for him to collapse on the bed in my parents' room as soon as he gets there. Plus, my father came back from the mines today.

I wash my hands after I finish skinning the rabbit. When I turn on the tap, I put my hands under the water, only they don't get wet. I try again and again, until I realize that it's pointless. Unusual things are happening to me, and they're starting to happen to Rory.

My mother sighs then gets an old piece of cloth. She gets it wet then gives it to me, telling me to wash my hands with it. Of course, that's the only way to wash my hands now. "Just get used to it, Gale," she tells me.

I step out the door, planning to play with my brothers, when a barn owl gracefully drops a letter in my hands. It flies away through the living room window. I look at the letter. It's strange how it knows my exact address.

I hear Vick shout "Birdie!" as I make my way to my room. The envelope was already yellowing, sealed with red wax, the words written with emerald green ink. It's too elegant for my liking.

I tear open the letter, finding two sheets of paper. One sheet is longer than the other. Curious, I begin to read.

* * *

**A/N: Greetings, obsessive fangirl. In case of confusion, Gale Hawthorne is two years younger here, making him the same age as Katniss and Peeta. Also, for those of you who know about Lorcan, Peeta's not the son of Luna and Rolf.**** Another thing, Peeta doesn't know Katniss yet. I'm planning to save that up for Diagon Alley.**

** One last thing: You rock my face off. **

**Potter on, dearies. **


	2. This Delusion I Call Life

"What the hell, Mom!" I say irritably. "Why in the world are you actually falling for this? It doesn't make sense."

My mom clutched the letter in her hands, rolling her eyes. Really, my mom can be such an idiot sometimes. "It's just a possibility, Katniss," she says. "Did you know how that letter got here? A barn owl came in the house earlier. It frightened Prim. As far as I know, no one in the country can tame owls like that."

It set me on edge. What in the world was going on? Was this letter real? Is this finally an answer to my strange behavior? Is this just some kind of joke someone thought as funny?

Damn. I hate being pranked on.

"Mom, it's a Hogwarts. It's a school you've never heard of. What's worse, you actually believe that there's a school for witches and wizards? You have got to be kidding me."

"But just say, Katniss–"

_Crash. _The sound came from the front door. What happened? My mom and I exchanged looks before moving out to check on the ruckus. A cry from upstairs indicated that it had intimidated Prim. Of course, almost everything intimidates Prim.

We continued silently down the hallway, not one of us daring to speak. My dad's loud snores can be heard from our position. It's amazing how he can sleep through almost anything.

When we were close enough to see, our front door was detached from its place, lying on a pile of rubble. In its place, a huge, gigantic hole was there, letting light flood into the dark hallway.

"Sorry 'bout that," a hoarse voice said from behind us. I was frozen on the spot. Whoever our intruder was, he was _not_ a small person.

"Well don't jus' stand there, look at me," the voice said again. My mother and I turned together. A tall, tall man was standing there, his huge beetle-black eyes twinkling. He had a tangled, bushy beard that didn't seem to be well tame. His eyebrows were thick, and his hands were the size of a big book. He wore a large, moleskin overcoat. I think he's smiling.

"Katniss Everdeen," he said. "Yer one of the prettiest Muggles I've ever seen."

Muggle? Was that an insult? I was too busy thinking about it to register the compliment about my being pretty. I thousand questions exploded in my head. Who was this man? Is he some kind of merchant? Is he a runaway criminal? Why is he so big? Is he a hobo? I want nothing to do with hobos.

The stranger cleared his throat. "I believe I haven't introduced meself properly yet. Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys an' grounds at Hogwarts."

I groaned aloud. "Please tell me you're joking," I say. "I'm not believing any of this magic stuff, alright? This is all so idiotic, and it all barely makes any sense! _Stupid!_ It's all just so stupid! Now just quit it!"

I stomped all the way up to my room. I hate it when people piss me off. But this person who was trying so hard to fool me was just nothing but relentless. Apparently, they have sent a stranger in costumes to my house to peeve me.

Idiot.

I hear my father's low, deep voice from here. He's woken up from his sleep. Maybe my mom is explaining the mysterious letter. Maybe the man is explaining his unexpected visit. This all feels so wrong. Shouldn't Rubeus Hagrid be telling all this to me? Aren't I the receiver of the letter? I don't understand anything anymore in this topsy-turvy delusion I call life.

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, _it had said. People call me names at school, but absolutely no one gets to call me a _witch. _I scream in frustration and kick the bedside table. Somehow, the world became all jacked-up in the last fifteen minutes.

Footsteps on the stairs. The sound of someone approaching my room. A knock on the door.

"Katniss," my dad says. "Open up."

* * *

Cleaning day. I absolutely despise cleaning day.

My mother always cleans every nook and cranny of the house. Friday is cleaning day. It's a Friday today. How could I have missed it?

"What in the world is this?" my mother asked fiercely, discovering the letter wedged between the books. I tensed up quickly, not daring to move. I noticed that my hand was shaking, and there was no doubt that fear was clearly showing on my face. Lorcan noticed this, and sadly my darling mother did, too.

"Peeta Mellark, explain yourself! Have you been hiding things from me? Why was this letter hidden? Answer me!" She walked towards me, her nostrils flared and a wooden spoon in hand. She'd always used that spoon for hitting us since children. Hitting Lorcan and I, at least. She never hit Lysander.

I looked to Lorcan. He looked as nervous as I was. With my eyes, I pleaded with him to help me out. I need him to make an excuse. He's always been the smart one, and he and Dad are the last two people in this house who actually _care_. Lysander is so much like my mother.

A slight shake of his head indicates that I'm alone, that there's nothing he can do right now. I'm on my own.

Dad said I was usually good with words. I couldn't understand why I was so tongue-tied. Perhaps there was just no logical explanation for it. There's no logical explanation for anything that happened today.

"Well?" my mother snapped. As I shook my head glumly, she let out a snort. "Useless creature," she said in disgust.

She tore open the envelope savagely. I wanted to read with Lorcan, not my mother. I guess there are just some things that are simply inevitable.

She stared daggers at me as she held the parchment in her hands. "_Dear Mr. Mellark_," my mother read aloud. "_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._" She snorts again. "Rubbish. Absolute rubbish!"

She tore the letter to little pieces and threw them in the fireplace. She came to me, her wooden spoon raised so she's ready to strike. "I will never _ever_ hear you talk about this nonsense letter! I cannot tolerate idiocy in this household!"

First strike. My head is throbbing. It was surely going to form a bruise later on.

Second strike. This one was hard. Harder than any blow before. Maybe she has something against witches and wizards.

Third strike. Harder and stronger than the last. My vision starts to go black at the edges. I feel something warm trickling down the side of my forehead. Who could do this to their own child?

I am just about ready to pass out as my mother raises her spoon again. Then I hear my father calling her name. "Helena!" he says, furious. "Don't you dare bring down that spoon!"

I open my eyes a little to see that my mother was scowling. She turned to my father. "You can't tell me what to do, Noah! This child needs discipline, and you've done nothing but baby him!"

"What did he even do, exactly?"

"Mother found a letter for him that says he's been accepted at some kind of magic school," says Lorcan, a bit too boldly for his standards. My father looked horrified. "That's it?" he asked in disbelief. "That's why you hit him? It's a just letter, Helena! Peeta's bleeding!"

Huh. I was bleeding. I reached out to the side of my head, resting the tips of my fingers on some kind of substance. I looked at my hand to see that my fingers were soaked in crimson. That would explain the warm thing I felt down my forehead earlier. My mother always hits Lorcan and I, but never hard enough for any of us to bleed. I laid my head back. This was too much.

"Do you think I can't see that, Noah? You really think I can't see that?" my mother asks. "It's obscene! For all we know, he might've given our address to some stranger! Some thief! He deserves punishment!"

"Innocent until proven guilty, Helena!"

_"Don't you take that tone with me!"_

I couldn't hear the rest of their fight. My head was throbbing with pain. I closed my eyes and drifted off into oblivion.

I woke up a few hours later. It was dark outside. I could see the stars lining the night sky. Orion, Ursa Major, Big Dipper, and lots of other constellations. Father loved stargazing. I loved it too.

I shifted. It was hard to miss the sound of paper crumpling slightly.

Five letters. Five letters were on my lap.

They were identical to the one that I received earlier. "What in the world?" I say to myself, grinning.

I got my hands on one of them. It feels good to finally have something that's mine. I usually only get hand-me-downs from Lysander, and most of them I had to share with Lorcan.

My mother always only cared for Lysander. She praised him; admired him. She believed that Lysander would be successful one day, just like the Spartan general he was named after. And yet she continued to downgrade her other sons.

I rolled my eyes just thinking of him. I always hated Lysander. I quickly tore open the envelope before my mother finds out I'm awake. _Dear Mr. Mellark_, I read silently. _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at_–

"And where exactly did you get all those?" an all too familiar voice says. I try my best to suppress a sigh. I failed. Well, if it isn't my favorite brother in the world. _Great_. I turned around to face him, the letter still in my hands.

"What are you doing here, Lysander?" I asked, trying to sound uninterested. "Shouldn't you be with Casey?"

I know they had a date tonight. He couldn't shut up about it earlier. Casey was Lysander's girlfriend. She was just a year younger than Lysander, who was sixteen years old. Casey was the nicest person I knew. She had thick dark brown hair that went a little bit past her shoulders, brown eyes, long, curvy eyelashes, and a warm smile. She was Lysander's exact opposite. While Casey was kind-hearted and compassionate, Lysander was cold, mean, and sadistic. I wonder what she saw in him.

"Casey's reading. She seemed really interested in this book she got, so she told me to get lost." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I actually want to be with her right now, anyway."

"You were the one who forced her to go on a date with you."

"I changed my mind, so stop asking."

"Why? And why are you acting as if you don't like her when you actually do? At least, I think you do. You're always acting like a jerk, you never exactly _genuinely_ care."

"Shut up." He looked like he was ready to pounce on me.

I like that about Casey. She's the only one who can stand up to Lysander. Perhaps he saw me smirk, because his glare turned completely icy. "Anyway, I know about earlier. Right, you received some letters? Give them to me." He pointed to the letter. I scoffed. "Lysander, you are probably the only sixteen-year-old I know who still has grammar issues. It's 'You received some letters, right?' not 'Right, you received some–'"

"Give that to me," he repeated angrily. My eyes shifted from the letter to Lysander. This might be the first time I ever disobeyed him, but finally, my stubborn eleven-year-old side is showing up. "No," I tell him firmly.

Lysander looked mildly amused. "No?" he asked in mock disbelief. "I have other ways to get hold of that, you know."

"I know."

He stepped slowly out of the room, probably off to get Mother. Wonderful. I'll soon have to deal with more blows to the head.

I am now officially depressed.

"Peeta! Where in the world did you get that letter? I got rid of that hours ago!" Just the sound of Mother's raspy voice made me cringe. I kept my eyes fixated on the floor, trying to make myself look as pitiful as possible, hoping she would spare me. Thankfully, she's not holding anything at the moment. I looked up briefly, meeting Lysander's eyes. He was smirking.

"Well? Are you going to hand over the letter?" she asks. Her eyes found their way onto the four others scattered on the floor. "_All of them?_" she asks again. I reluctantly reached out for the letters, stuffing the one in my hand back to its envelope. I handed them over to my mother, who jerked them back roughly. She threw them in the open fireplace, and I watched them crumble to ashes, feeling more miserable than ever.

* * *

**A/N: HALTE! Hi, Soldier. This chapter is divided into two parts. Peeta's part was just too long, so I had to split it in half. I'm sorry about not including Gale, but I promise that you'll hear a lot from him in the next chapter. I have lots of things planned for him. **

**Thank you to Casey, whose name I used for Lysander's girlfriend. Even though you were never really informed, anyway. I'm sorry for making you the girlfriend of a complete jerk. But hey, you repeatedly teased me about nineteen-year-old Maxon. HE IS IN LOVE WITH AMERICA, CASEY! GET OVER IT! **

**Mr. Mellark's name came from E.L. Konigsburg's The View From Saturday. I was thinking of a nice baker name (I originally called him Pyxis. Weird for a quiet man, huh?) then I was thinking of Noah Gershom. Then I thought of Harry Potter because I was thinking of Ethan. I have a busy mind. By the way, it's a very short book, but I would definitely recommend it to everybody. Go Julian! Not to mention, Ethan's last name! It's Potter! Total Ethan/Nadia shipper, by the way! They're so cute together! Or maybe I like halos. Halos rule.**

**Oh, and about Katniss always being... what's the word? _Moody_ all the time, I remember I started acting like that when I was eleven years old. I still kind of do. Plus, Katniss is always acting like that in the books. More quiet, yes. But still hot-tempered.**

**I'm still active, guys. I'm already writing the next chapter on my sister's phone. It's really long, and I need you guys to stick with me. Why? I don't know.**


	3. I'm Basically Wasting Your Time

A/N: Hi, Tributes. I wanted to say that I'm going on a temporary two-month hiatus. Maybe even less than two months, actually. I know, I haven't updated since January 11 and I haven't even finished Chapter 3, but the next chapter is full of surprises. I promise you.

Thanks for momentarily sticking with me. You can stop for two months, though. And I want to hear from you guys, what do you think will happen next? The next chapter starts off with Peeta, and then Gale's going to narrate.

Thanks again, my lovelies! And may the odds be ever in your favor. (They aren't in mine, I have to take my OWLs next week) Adieu! For now.


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